The Slow Way
by Carrie1138
Summary: This is my version of what happened on the Millennium Falcon on the way to Bespin. It's 10 years old now, and when I wrote it I didn't know what a popular subject this is! It used to be on Fanfix, so you may have read it before.


**THE SLOW WAY**

The _Millennium Falcon_ continued its drift for a while, waiting for the Star Destroyers to make their jump. Once they were gone, Han gunned the engines, and the _Falcon_ moved off.

Leia let out a long sigh, sat back in her seat. "So, Captain," she began, laying, Han noticed, the subtlest ironic emphasis on his title. "Just how long is this little trip likely to take us?"

"We-ell ..." Han drawled, tapping away at the navicomputer as he spoke, "at top sublight - 'cept we won't be able to make top sublight, or we'd run out of fuel before we got there - so at nearly top sublight ..." He paused, waited for calculations to process. "A little over three weeks," he said finally.

There was a pause, then, "_How_ little over?" Leia asked frostily. Han looked over his shoulder at her, unable to keep a half-amused, half-embarrassed grin off his face. "About half a week over?" he offered, bracing himself for the explosion

"What?!" Leia's face assumed the same expression it had worn when, on the Death Star, she'd gotten her first look at the _Millennium Falcon_ and exclaimed "You came in that thing?" Now, she was exclaiming, "Three and a half weeks? On this rustbucket?"

Han raised his hands in a gesture of warding off an attack. "I know, I know," he told her. "Believe me, if I could fix the hyperdrive, I would, but this is more than a simple blown power coupling. It needs serious work, that we can't do here. I'm sorry, okay?"

Leia looked sour. "It's really not my fault," Han told her, and she raised her eyebrows.

"If I had a credit for every time I've heard that on this trip ..." She shook her head. "Well, at least we're still alive. At least you've gotten us this far."

Han blinked. Was that another compliment? But before he could respond, she was leaving the cockpit. He caught her eyes as she stood up, and ... he didn't know if it was his imagination, or if she really was smiling at him.

He stared at the closed door for a moment, frowning to himself, then shrugged, and smiled. Three and a half weeks was a long time, after all. And it wasn't easy to avoid someone on a light freighter.

The door whooshed open as he sat there, and Chewbacca entered the cockpit, growling a question.

"Everything went great," Han reassured him. "Only problem is, it's going to take us nearly four weeks to get to Bespin."

Chewie made a comment, and Han grinned. "Yeah, she didn't strike me as being too pleased about it either." He held up a hand. "And don't start making any smart comments, because I don't want to hear them." He turned his attention to the readouts, began making diagnostics.

"Wake up Threepio, would you?" he asked. "While we've got all this time to spare, he might as well give us a hand to find out what else is wrong with this bucket."

"Empire may be gracious enough to allow us our lives!" Threepio finished in a gabble as his power returned. Then he glanced around, and took in the situation, realized what had happened. "But how rude!" he exclaimed. "Captain Solo, I must protest! In all my active life, I have never been treated with such discourtesy! I was merely expressing an opinion - "

"I know where that switch is now, Threepio," Han told him quietly, and the droid suddenly seemed to run out of complaints. "That's better," Han commented. "Now, make yourself useful and help Chewie with these diagnostics, while I go check some stuff on the hold console."

* * *

Leia sat at the games table, absentmindedly tracing its checkerboard pattern with her fingers, watching a half-empty mug of what the Falcon called caf steam lazily. Three and a half weeks, she thought. She sighed. Three and a half weeks before they could even start repairs. Assuming Han's friend could - or would - help them. Assuming this Lando was even still running his mining colony. She sighed again. It was going to be weeks before she could make the Alliance rendezvous. They'd all assume she'd been captured, or killed. And there was no way she could contact them. The risk of the transmission being intercepted was just too great. And Luke would think they were dead.

Luke … She could still remember him bursting into her cell on the Death Star, proclaiming, "I'm here to rescue you." And Han and Chewie behind him, blasting at everything in sight. Even now, she smiled at the memory of that moment. It had been the strangest rescue party she'd ever known, but somehow it had been right. And over the next few years, somehow they'd stuck together. Her and Luke and Han: the princess, the farmboy, and the smuggler. Plus the smuggler's copilot, and the droids who, though she'd sent them to find General Kenobi, had stuck to Luke as if they were meant to be with him.

That was how it had been, for the past three years. And happening as it had, just when she'd lost just about everything she'd been familiar with, it had filled the void left by everything that the loss of Alderaan stood for: she still had the Alliance, and she still had the group of people with whom she'd been through so much, a group that had only grown tighter and closer as time passed.

A group that was about to break up.

That was what hurt. Luke had told her, before the invasion turned everything into chaos, that he was thinking about going away. She didn't know what it was he wanted to do, but she felt it was important. And Han and Chewie were about to leave also, and what would she be left with?

Han somehow chose just the moment she had that thought to saunter into the hold, trying to look nonchalant. "Well, we're on course for Bespin," he told her, with exaggerated cheerfulness. "Chewie and Threepio are running a full-systems diagnostic, so we shouldn't have any more nasty surprises."

"Oh, good," Leia commented drily, and raised her mug to her lips. "Now the only question is whether I can survive three and a half weeks on this caf."

Han shook his head, smiling resignedly. "The _Falcon_ never did know how to make caf," he told her. "Maybe we could have Threepio reprogram the machine."

Leia gave a watery smile, but made no reply. Han seated himself in the chair by the console, feeling somewhat awkward, unsure how he should deal with the side of Leia he was now seeing. She was... so quiet. She wasn't yelling at him, she wasn't criticising his piloting or tearing strips off his ship, she was... just drinking caf and fiddling with the games table. And he still couldn't figure her out. Sure, she was mellowing toward him... a little, but something still told him he shouldn't push his luck.

He still found it hard to take his eyes off her, though.

Leia glanced up, caught him looking at her. "What?" she asked.

"What?" he echoed, startled, then shook his head. "Nothing."

"Good," she replied, and returned her gaze to the tabletop. It was going to be a very long trip if it was going to be like this all the way, Han thought.

"Look," he essayed, "I'm sorry about all this. Really. I thought I'd just get you off Hoth, drop you at the rendezvous, and that'd be it. I didn't expect it to get this complicated."

"No," Leia replied impassively. She shrugged. "You'll get to Tatooine soon enough."

"Huh? Yeah, I'm sure I will," he agreed, unsure quite what the connection was.

Leia sighed. "Look, I'm a little tired," she told him. "Could you show me which bunk I can use?"

"Sure." Han took her to the sleeping quarters, and then returned to the hold, feeling completely confused. Leia mellowing? He must be crazy.

* * *

_Day two_, Leia thought when she woke the next morning. It wasn't a good feeling, considering there were at least twenty-three still to go.

She took a shower, spending longer over it than she'd expected to, feeling like she was washing away several battles instead of just one. When she finally felt clean again, she turned on the hot-air dryer and enjoyed the warm currents for a while, shaking out her hair and combing it through with her fingers to dry it more quickly. She supposed she should be glad Han had a Wookiee for a copilot; she was sure he would never have bothered with a luxury such as this otherwise.

She dressed again, wishing she had some different clothes with her. Her short-sleeved shirt and underwear were clean - she'd washed them out last night - and the cold-weather gear would just have to do - it repelled water, so didn't get dirty as such, and when it did it needed specialized cleaning anyway. But all her personal belongings had been on the transport that had had to leave Hoth without her. Well, at least my clothes made the rendezvous, she thought wryly.

Once she'd braided and pinned up her hair, she made her way to the galley. Half-reluctantly, she requested caf, and carried it through to the hold. The room was empty. Han, she guessed, was still sleeping, since the curtain across his bunk had still been drawn when she'd left. Chewie was up though, probably tinkering with some other malfunction on what she already considered a marginally spaceworthy ship.

She sipped her caf, and nearly did a double-take. It tasted almost good. Han must have remembered, and had Threepio talk to the food-prep unit after she'd gone to bed. She smiled to herself. Trying to impress me again, huh? she thought. Well, maybe it worked this time.

She heard Threepio and Chewbacca coming up the passageway from the cockpit, and turned to greet them. "Everything okay?" she asked, and Chewie grunted.

"Matters are quite satisfactory, Mistress Leia," Threepio elaborated. "Judging by the results of the diagnostic programs, the Millennium Falcon is functioning well within established parameters, and should safely see us as far as Bespin."

"Oh, good," Leia replied, not sounding entirely convinced, and wondering, at the same time, just what were established parameters for a ship such as the Falcon. Probably the fact that nothing had actually fallen off yet counted for enough.

"By the way, Threepio, thanks for the caf," she told him.

"Oh, are you pleased with it, Mistress Leia?" Threepio asked. "I am gratified. Captain Solo mentioned last night that you were not happy with the usual brew, and asked me to attempt to modify it. I hoped it would be to your taste, as I called up all the information at my disposal on how members of the House of Alderaan and other of the galaxy's ruling houses prefer to take their caf. What you are drinking is the closest approximation to those requirements that the _Millennium Falcon_'s drinks preparation unit could achieve."

"Well... thanks for making such an effort," she said, feeling almost sorry she'd said anything now.

"If it is not quite to your taste, I could attempt some further modifications...?" Threepio offered.

"No - no, thanks, Threepio, this is just fine," Leia replied, not really wanting to receive daily briefings on the performance of the caf machine for the rest of the journey.

"It would be no trouble," Threepio promised, but luckily he was distracted by Han's entrance into the hold, also carrying a mug. "Hey, what d'you think of the caf? Pretty good, huh?"

Leia couldn't help but smile. "Not bad," she told him. "Not bad at all."

Han grinned. "So you think you'll survive the journey after all, then?"

"I guess so."

He came and sat beside her on the couch, a little too close, she thought. "In that case," he began, "I guess we're going to have to find something interesting enough to fill all that time, aren't we?"

Uncomfortable at his insinuations, and conscious of Chewbacca and Threepio still watching this exchange, she edged away from him slightly. "I'm sure I can find plenty to occupy my mind, Captain," she told him. "What did you do to pass the time on all those smuggling runs?"

Han heard the whuffing sound of Wookiee laughter, and turned quickly to give his first mate a warning look. How he'd passed the time on at least a couple of those smuggling runs was something he didn't want reminding of right at the moment, especially with Threepio there to translate. "What are you doing still here?" he demanded. "I thought I told you we were going to use this time to get the rest of this ship running at full spec? Get to it. You too, Threepio."

Chewie shrugged, and grabbed the protocol droid by an arm, dragging him off down the corridor. The whuffing sound retreated with them, along with Threepio's grumblings about how rough handling affected his internal mechanisms.

Han turned back to Leia. "To tell you the truth," he began, "we never went on that many long runs. If we did, it was usually divided into a lot of short hops, nothing so long as this."

"So it's just Dejarik and Sabacc, then?" She didn't look too pleased.

"Well, I'm afraid I don't go much on great works of literature, Your Highness," he retorted. "There's a few holovids, but I doubt they'd be to your taste, either."

Leia sat back, folded her arms. "Try me."

Han stalked across the room, and opened a cupboard, disclosing a small collection of tapes. "These are all smashball games," he began. "They're truly classic matches, but I don't suppose you'd be into that, would you?"

"No."

"Can't say I'm surprised," Han commented under his breath. "Now these," he indicated the remaining tapes, "are all movies. Action stuff. Nothing highbrow." Seeing her face, he told her, "Lando owned them. Left 'em behind when I won the ship from him."

That caught her attention. "Lando used to own this ship?" she asked.

"Yeah," Han told her. "And he was heartbroken to lose her, I can tell you."

Leia raised her eyebrows. "Really?" she asked incredulously.

"Yes, really," Han told her impatiently. "Look, you may not think much of this ship, but she's got it where it counts. And she's gotten _you_ out of a few scrapes, Your Highness."

Leia sighed. "I thought I asked you to stop calling me that."

Han raised his eyebrows. "That's right, you did. Can't think why I keep forgetting."

Leia suddenly found herself smiling. "All right," she conceded. "Let's see one of those holovids. Maybe Lando's taste in movies will give me some insight into his character."

Han pulled out the tapes, began reading the titles. "Okay. There's _Goran Shivilith and the Theatre of Death, Pirates of the Silver Nebula, Doom Dealer II, Stalkers, Obliterator Part V - _"

"Part five?" Leia commented sardonically. "_Obliterator_ was popular, wasn't he?"

"Well, yeah," Han told her. "That's Ruud Corton, he's a huge star. He was in _Pirates of the Silver Nebula_ too. You never heard of him?"

"Can't say I did. Did I miss much?"

Han shrugged. "Well, maybe not. I guess it'd be a matter of opinion."

Leia grinned. "Okay, let's find out. Put on the _Pirates_ thing."

_Pirates of the Silver Nebula_ was a medium-budget action thriller. In common with much of its genre, it featured a hero with too-perfect features, unfeasibly large muscles, and little, so far as Leia could discern, acting ability. The story itself was set in many supposedly stunning locations, but to Leia's eyes they looked clumsily computer-generated. The plot, what there was of it, concerned mistaken identity, piracy (of course), an evil nonhuman and a rogue droid, both of whom seemed to exist merely to put the female lead (who resembled the hero in every respect except that her muscles were smaller and breasts slightly larger) in mortal danger from which the hero could extract her by ever-more-daring rescues.

Leia was pointing all this out, when Han suddenly stopped her. "Wait - watch this bit," he exclaimed. "He comes in on the speeder, makes this incredible jump, picks her out of mid-air, then lands and kills the bad guy without missing a beat. Watch!"

Leia watched, with growing incredulity. "No human could jump that far," she protested. "That was never him. It was a droid, or someone from a very high-gravity planet."

"No way!" Han argued. "Corton does all his own stunts, he prides himself on it."

"Well he's genetically enhanced then," Leia pronounced. "Honestly, Han, this stuff is trash." And from that opinion she wouldn't be moved, despite Han pointing out how much work had gone into timing the action sequences, putting together all the moves. Leia countered by asserting that the major set-piece space battle not only looked completely unrealistic, was probably animated by someone who had never been near a starfighter in their life, but to cap it all, repeated the exact same sequence of shots at least three times.

"And as for the actors," she wound up, "they might as well be computer-generated too, for all the life they show."

The vid finished predictably, with the hero and heroine in a clinch against a background of the famed Silver Nebula, the hero vindicated, the nonhuman and the droid destroyed. Leia turned to Han, shaking her head. "Are they all that bad?" she asked, with a wry smile.

"Yep," Han replied. "But they're fun. You've got to admit that."

Leia gave him a dubious look, then laughed, shook her head again. "I don't know," she told him. "I don't know if I can take that much fun all at once."

* * *

After a few days they fell into a routine. During the day, they would work on the ship. There was always something that needed tinkering with, and Leia, for the lack of anything else to do, lent a hand also, and learnt a fair amount about starship maintenance, more than she'd ever expected to learn at any rate. Almost without noticing it, perhaps because they were in such close contact all the time, she stopped feeling awkward around Han, and began to actually like being with him. There was a kind of easy camaraderie developing between them that she enjoyed, especially since, for the moment at least, he seemed to have taken the hint and stopped trying to push her into a relationship she didn't want. It wasn't that she had no feelings for Han; in her more honest moments, she was prepared to acknowledge - at least to herself - that she was attracted to him. When he let down the spacewise, couldn't-care mask, he was a genuinely... "nice man"! She couldn't deny it. And the way he'd kissed her.... But she couldn't afford to even think about that. It stirred up too much in her, too many feelings that she couldn't afford to have. Not in the middle of a war. Not for someone who was about to leave her. So she pushed those feelings to the back of her mind, tried to think of Han Solo as just a colleague, a friend... and lived day-to-day, making the best of things.

In the evenings, it was a little more difficult to pass the time. Sometimes Han and Chewbacca would play Sabacc, but Leia refused to join in. Knowing she had no talent for the game, and being the kind of person who refused to attempt anything she knew she couldn't do well, she preferred to watch. She was a fair Dejarik player, however, and Chewbacca was always willing to play, since Han viewed the game with disdain and wouldn't touch it at any price. Chewie had played against Threepio also, but the protocol droid's slow and careful way of playing the game, set against Chewie's brute force and chaos approach, resulted merely in frustration for the Wookiee, with the consequence that they'd never completed a game. Leia's strategies were more idiosyncratic. While careful and cunning most of the time, she also had a ability to take reckless chances which had left Chewie scratching his head in confusion more than once.

Tonight, however, Chewie's mind didn't seem to be completely on the game. Leia had managed to pull off a sneaky move which left his strongest piece almost totally surrounded, giving her several options that could only result in inevitable defeat for him. She'd tried a similar move a few nights ago, but that time it had annoyed Chewbacca so much he'd dented one of the table's holoprojectors with a blow from his fist before switching off the game and refusing to continue. Now she cast a sidelong glance at him. He didn't look too engrossed, sitting as he was with his chin on his paws, gazing morosely at the table. But sometimes you couldn't tell with Wookiees - he might appear disinterested, but be ready to leap into action at a moment's notice. Then Chewie yawned, and rubbed his eyes, snorting glumly. Leia keyed in her move.

One of her pieces stalked across the board, avoiding several of Chewie's on the way, then picked up his king, and threw it to the floor, folding its arms in a gesture of victory. Chewbacca merely grunted, held out his huge paw for her to shake.

Leia took his paw, but shook her head. "You're not a worthy opponent tonight, Chewie," she told him. "A couple of days ago, if I'd tried that, you'd have destroyed the whole room. What's up?" Chewie huffed and grunted disconsolately.

"Says he's bored out of his fur," Han translated succinctly from his vantage point in the console seat, then left the room, heading past the cockpit, toward the starboard hold. Leia looked questioningly at Chewie, who merely shrugged.

Han returned momentarily, carrying a small portable refrigeration unit, which he placed on the deck by his chair before opening it. Leia's eyes widened as she recognized the slim purple wine bottles he disclosed.

"Han, that's Algarine!" she exclaimed. "How did you -" She stopped herself.

Han looked smug. "How did a small-time smuggler like me come to have stuff like this stashed on his ship?" he finished for her. "I didn't just carry spice, you know, Princess. And sometimes I got paid in kind. I've been saving these for a special occasion - and since this trip is now officially half over, I think this qualifies. Chewie – glasses?"

Chewbacca headed for the galley, looking considerably perkier than he had a moment before.

Leia looked at Han, shaking her head. "You've got four bottles there," she told him. "Surely that would have gone some way toward paying off your debt to Jabba the Hutt?"

"Surely it would," Han teased her gently. "But it would have been wasted on him. Two mouthfuls and it'd be gone." He made a flippant gesture. "And Hutts have no taste, my dear."

Leia couldn't help but laugh. Whether he'd intended it or not, it was a perfect imitation of the petty palace snobs she'd grown up around. Except it wasn't only Hutts they'd considered to have no taste. She grinned. "Is it normal for smugglers to have a taste for fine wine?" she asked.

Han grinned back. "Maybe not," he said. "But as I'm sure you know, I'm no ordinary smuggler."

Chewie, returning then with three glasses in his paws, regaled Han with a series of impatient-sounding grunts. "Okay, okay," Han told him. "I'm opening it." He glanced at Leia, mischief in his eyes. "Bet you never knew of such a thing as an alcoholic Wookiee either." Chewbacca bared his fangs at his partner, and Leia laughed as she took the glass Han offered her.

The Falcon's unbreakable tumblers weren't the sort of thing Leia was used to drinking Algarine out of, but it tasted just as good. She found herself slipping back in her mind to the first time she'd tasted the rich wine. It had been her father's favourite, and on her fourteenth birthday, she'd been allowed a small glass as a special treat. It had given her hiccups, much to the chagrin of her etiquette-conscious aunts. She smiled to herself, wondering what her aunts would say if they could see her now. Nothing complimentary, she was sure.

"Leia, what do you think?"

She snapped back to the present. "Sorry, what?"

"Boy, you were light years away," Han commented. "I asked what you thought of the wine. Chewie says it's too dry, but I think it's fine."

"It's perfectly good," she smiled. "Would grace the royal palace any day." She looked at Chewie. "Don't Wookiees like dry drinks?"

Han grinned. "You wouldn't ask that if you'd ever tried any of their drinks. Pure sugar, every last one of 'em." Chewie begged to differ, but Han shook his head. "Say what you like, pal, but Wookiees aren't high on anyone's gourmet list... except maybe their own."

"Indeed, Captain Solo is quite right," Threepio chimed in suddenly, causing all three of the others to look over at him. He'd been so uncharacteristically quiet they'd forgotten he was there. "The Wookiee cuisine is known for its lack of palatability to humans, and - "

"Threepio, don't you have any work to do?" Han demanded.

"Why, no, sir," the droid responded. "I checked the sensors within the last hour, and today's diagnostic showed all systems running well."

"Well, why don't you shut down for the night, then?" Han suggested. "We'll be needing you when we get to Bespin, and I don't want you running out of power before we get there. We don't have any to spare for you."

"Very well, Captain Solo," Threepio conceded. "I would not wish to waste power and then fail when you needed me." His photoreceptors went dark.

"You're so cruel to him," Leia told Han, but her smile belied any criticism implied in her words, so he made no response.

Chewie rose again, and made his way back to the galley, grumbling quietly. "Gone for sugar," Han commented. He looked back at Leia. "You know, you're the only person I've ever seen Chewie let beat him at Dejarik."

Leia raised her eyebrows. "Really? He's just so bored he doesn't care."

Han shook his head. "Uh uh. There was one time, we had a long layover on Veskel, waiting for a contact. There's _nothing_ to do there. And alcohol's illegal. Chewie was way more bored than he is now, and he was playing against the spaceport manager there. The manager was lucky to escape with all his arms and legs."

Chewie returned to catch the last of this speech, and commented that if ever Han planned another haul via Veskel, he'd be needing a new partner.

But once the smuggling anecdotes started, there was always another one, and for the next couple of hours Leia found herself veering from incredulity to laughter as Han and Chewie regaled her with incident after incident, each one outdoing the last.

They were starting on the second bottle of wine when Chewie suddenly let out a huge yawn, and growled at length to Han.

"Okay, pal," Han agreed. "Wookiees get terrible hangovers if they don't get enough sleep," he explained to Leia. "See you tomorrow, partner."

"Night, Chewie," Leia added. "Sleep well."

She turned to Han. "Were all those stories true?" she asked.

"Of course!" He looked offended. "Would I lie?"

Leia looked sidelong at him. "Some of them stretched credibility a little, I think."

She sipped her drink thoughtfully for a moment, then, "Han?" she began, and he raised his eyebrows, looking over at her. "How did you get into smuggling?" she asked.

Han shrugged. "Oh, you know - the usual way. I needed a few fast credits, someone offered me an easy job."

"Yes, but..." she paused. "I mean, why did you start smuggling? What did you do before?"

His eyes levelled on her again, suddenly as hard and cold as the stars. "Lot of people have asked that," he told her. "Some of 'em ended up dead."

Leia gaped at him. "Are you threatening me?" she demanded.

Han shook his head tiredly. "Nah." He stood up, refilled his glass, brought the bottle, and the glass, over to the table, and sat down. "Of course not," he told her. "It's just - habit. There's some questions I don't like asked."

"Okay," she said softly. "I won't ask again."

They sat in silence for a while, then Han asked quietly, "How did you get into the Rebellion?"

Leia sipped her drink, didn't look at him. "All kinds of reasons," she said solemnly. "I grew up quickly when I joined the Senate. I was idealistic... and terribly naive. I expected to be able to change things, but there was so much corruption, so much apathy... so little anyone could do through the official channels." Her voice dropped to a whisper, and she closed her eyes. "I just wanted to make things better." She laughed at herself. "That sounds so dumb."

She felt his hand close over hers. "Leia," he said, so softly.

She looked up at him, and their eyes met and locked for an instant that seemed endless. His hand tightened around hers as he drew closer and they kissed, slowly at first, a little hesitantly, then more intensely, feeling like they never wanted to stop, never wanted to be parted.

Finally, Han drew back. Leia gazed into his eyes, looking for something, she didn't know what.

Han touched her cheek, cupped her face in his hands like a treasure. "Don't run away," he whispered.

Leia inhaled sharply, shook her head. "N-no," she breathed.

Han drew her close again and they embraced, holding each other tight. Leia felt breathless, no longer inclined, or able, to deny her trembling. What was she getting into here? Han moved her in ways she hadn't thought possible, didn't even want to believe possible. There was no future for them, she knew that.

But she couldn't think about that now. She held him tighter.

"You all right?" Han whispered.

"I... yeah," she replied, still not sure. It made no sense, to feel like this. But she didn't want him to stop holding her.

* * *

Leia shifted, wriggled, and began to wake up. Something was wrong. She was lying the wrong way around in her bunk, or she was in the wrong bunk, or... whoa! Someone was in the bunk with her! Her eyes snapped open, and she realized she wasn't in her bunk at all, but had been sleeping on the couch in the Falcon's hold. Right in her line of sight, on the table, was a half-empty bottle of Algarine, and two almost-full glasses. She smiled ruefully to herself. It was a long time since she'd drunk so much alcohol - apart from the day they celebrated destroying the Death Star, which had been quite a party, the only times she'd drunk wine had been at dinners with other Alliance leaders, and, of course, on those occasions she'd had to keep a fairly clear head. But she'd been under no such restrictions last night, and she had to admit that she'd enjoyed it. She hadn't had the chance to kick back and relax for a long time. Maybe Han had been right when he'd said she was getting uptight.

She decided to risk sitting up, carefully. She found herself a little light-headed, and stiff, but otherwise felt better than she'd expected to. Looking down at Han, she smiled affectionately. She'd kind of squashed him into the corner of the couch, and his head was wedged into the cushions at what looked like a very awkward, and probably painful, angle. She thought about trying to move him into a more comfortable position, but decided against it. If he woke feeling as confused as she had, it was probably better for him to wake up by himself.

Very gently, she touched his face. He didn't stir, and she went to get some caf. Sitting in the console chair, she watched him sleeping, thinking about last night, what had happened. She remembered talking about the Senate, how she'd joined the Rebellion.... She remembered Han kissing her. She doubted she'd ever forget that, nor the moment their eyes met, like an impact, an explosion of emotion. It was a feeling she couldn't put words to, a feeling she hadn't wanted or encouraged, but now she couldn't deny it. She looked at Han, and the sight of him stirred those emotions again.

Han moved, beginning to wake up, and she looked away, feeling suddenly shy. His hands went to his neck as he grimaced, shifted uncomfortably. His eyes opened, and his gaze took in where he was, the bottle and glasses, then came to rest on Leia. He smiled ruefully, just as she had. "Did I fall asleep on you? I'm sorry."

Leia shook her head. "Actually, I can't remember who fell

asleep first," she smiled. "I only woke up a little while ago."

Han took a moment to process that information. She hadn't run away. She'd stayed with him. He grinned, involuntarily, expecting her to scowl back at him. But she smiled herself, blushing slightly. He crossed the room, and embraced her.

They stood together quietly for a while, as Han reviewed, as Leia had, the events of the previous night. She hadn't run away, that was certain. But she'd consumed a fair amount of alcohol. They both had. If she was to now decide it had been a mistake, it wouldn't be the first time. He was reluctant to bring the subject up, for fear of stirring up her doubts, but ... if she was going to change her mind, he wanted to know.

Half against his will, he found himself asking gently, "Leia ... are you sure this is what you want?"

She sighed deeply, shook her head. "I ... thought I was sure I didn't," she began hesitantly. "But now that ... since ..."

Han drew back slightly, looked down at her, held her eyes with his steady gaze. "Since what?" he asked. Leia shook her head, unwilling to speak, but found herself unable to look away.

"Since I kissed you?" he pursued, his voice soft, his eyes intense.

Leia shook her head again, feeling flustered, but Han drew her back close to him and kissed her once more. She tensed a moment, then found herself unable to do anything but relax into the embrace, savouring the kiss, enjoying the brief respite it offered. For it was true, undeniable now, that when he kissed her nothing else mattered, not the war, not the millions of dead, not the too many people lost, one way or another. But once he disengaged, that was when it all came back, that was when she couldn't help but think of him leaving. That was when she didn't want to love him.

Her lips against his cheek, she whispered, "I don't want to lose you, Han."

"Lose me?" he echoed incredulously.

"I've lost so many people already."

"You won't lose me, Leia," he told her.

She blinked. "Han, come on! We both know as soon as we make the rendezvous you'll be going to Tatooine, and I'll probably never see you again."

"You think I can't find you if I want to?"

"Oh really?" she demanded. "And just how do you propose to do that? The Alliance doesn't exactly leave forwarding addresses."

"The Rebellion isn't quite so secret as you think," he countered, irritated. Here he was, trying to make some kind of commitment to her, and she was throwing it back in his face. "You're never going to get it, are you?" he demanded. "You seem to think that because I want to save my own skin first, I don't care bantha dung for the Rebellion. Well, let me tell you, if I don't save my own skin, one day one of those bounty hunters is going to get just a little bit quicker, or a little bit smarter, and then I guess you'd lose me for good, wouldn't you?"

Leia stared at him, unable to reply, unable to collect her confused feelings enough. Instead, she turned and ran from the room, leaving Han to throw up his hands in despair, and slump into the same seat she'd recently vacated. Suddenly he felt like the whole thing had been a bad idea from the beginning. After all, she was a princess, an Alliance leader, and all he was was a two-bit smuggler with a death-price on his head. He slammed his fist on the console, setting alarms blaring and lights flashing.

As he engaged the resets, grumbling softly to himself, Chewbacca came stomping in from the cockpit, growling at full volume about ruined diagnostics and delicate systems checks that would take hours to set up again.

Han glared at his partner. "All right, I'm sorry, okay? But it _is_ my ship."

Chewie gave him a look that, to anyone conversant with Wookiee body language, showed clearly wry amusement, and barked a question.

"Yeah, all right, I blew it," Han admitted tiredly. "She's really hacked off at me now, pal, and I don't think she's ever going to speak to me again."

Chewbacca sensed this wasn't just one of Han and Leia's usual squabbles, but something his partner was taking seriously, more seriously than Han had ever taken an argument with a woman before. He offered him an old Wookiee proverb, along the lines of "the unclimbed tree yields no fruit", translating, Han guessed, to something like the more prosaic "nothing ventured, nothing gained".

Han sighed. "You really think I've got a chance?"

Chewie merely repeated the proverb.

Han suddenly grinned. "All right, pal, I'll give it a try. But don't blame me if she doesn't go for it."

Chewbacca shrugged, smiling to himself, as Han went off in search of Leia.

He finally tracked her down in the starboard hold, sitting on an empty packing crate. She avoided his eyes.

"Look, Leia," he began. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't've - "

She didn't let him get any further. "No," she told him. "I'm the one should be apologising. I shouldn't have tried to make you feel guilty about leaving."

"Leia - "

She held up her hand. "Let me finish. You're right. You've done a lot for the Alliance. Everyone appreciates it."

"And what about you?" he asked, feeling the echoes of the conversation they'd had outside the Hoth command centre, when she'd refused to admit to any personal feelings on the subject.

Leia met his eyes. "Perhaps I'm the only one that didn't appreciate it," she said quietly.

"Huh?"

"You wouldn't stay. You never made a commitment. I couldn't rely on you like I did on Luke, the others...." She sighed, stopped him again from interrupting. "I know... I had no right to demand it. But I wanted it." She turned away from him. Her voice was suddenly tired. "Go away, Han."

"No."

He embraced her. She buried her face in his chest, not wanting to, unable not to.

"I shouldn't have pushed you," was all he could say. "I didn't know - "

"Don't," she told him. "It's too late."

He shook his head. "Leia ... it's not that I want to leave ... You know that, don't you?"

She sighed deeply. "Han, you've already stayed with the Alliance for three years. If you'd wanted to leave, you could have gone at any time."

He took her face in his hands, made her look at him. "But you still don't believe I'll be back, do you?"

She avoided his eyes. "It's not that I don't trust you..." she began, but it sounded lame even to her. She glanced at Han, he saw the tears coming to her eyes, and hugged her tightly. She held him as if she never wanted to let go.

"I've lost ... so many people," she said, her voice strained. "I don't think I can bear ... to lose any more."

"I'm sorry," Han whispered. He couldn't think what else to say. "Can't we just make the most of the time we do have?"

Leia made an odd sound, something between a laugh and a sob. "I wish," she murmured.

* * *

It was a long time before they moved from that embrace. Chewbacca, meanwhile, had reset his systems checks and moved on to replacing a valve in the air conditioning system. The developments in Han and Leia's relationship had been no great surprise to him, on the whole. He'd known from the beginning what Han's feelings were toward the Alliance, that had been clear from the moment he left Yavin IV, heading not for the nearest safe hyperspace entry point, but for the Death Star. That hadn't really surprised him, Han had always been a sucker for lost causes. What had surprised him was the number of excuses Han came up with not to leave the Alliance, especially since he now had the means to finally get Jabba the Hutt off his back once and for all. But a little observation had quickly given the answer to the puzzle, and Chewie had just shrugged his shoulders with typical Wookiee resignation, and settled himself to spending more time than he'd expected in the fight against the Empire. Not that he wasn't pleased to be doing so, but the reason behind it gave him cause for some secret amusement.

What Chewbacca had found more surprising was when he discovered that Han's feelings for Leia seemed to be reciprocated. That was something he'd never expected, and for a while, as Leia seemed to increasingly turn away from Han, he began to think he'd misread her. Now, however, it seemed he'd been right, though he had to admit their timing wasn't exactly perfect, and perhaps that was what was causing the problems now. But he had a feeling that when Han and Leia parted this time - as they must, since no-one knew better than he did how jumpy his partner was getting about Jabba's bounty - it wouldn't be for long, and, once reunited, they would be difficult to separate again. If not impossible. Would he put money on it, though, he wondered, and laughed at himself. He'd been right so far, hadn't he?

* * *

Han and Leia finally left the starboard hold, and parted, Leia claiming that she needed to get some proper sleep. What she really felt she needed was time to think, to once and for all figure out what was happening to her, and what she should do about it.

Han didn't argue with her, even though he feared that letting her go might just give her a chance to change her mind again. To tell the truth, he was feeling guilty. Really guilty. He'd always suspected Leia liked him, but was deliberately holding him at arm's length for some reason, and he'd been determined to find out why. The first thing he'd thought of, and the most obvious, was that she felt it beneath her dignity, as a princess, to be involved with a common smuggler. He'd thrown that idea out long ago, but had kept goading her with it in the hope of getting to the real reason. Now that he knew, however, he wished he didn't. Alderaan. When she spoke of losing people, he knew it had to go back to Alderaan. And that made him feel like the worst mess at the bottom of Jabba the Hutt's cesspool, to think he'd stirred all that up for her again.

He returned to the hold, answered Chewbacca's inquiry with a noncommital grunt, and ripped out the half-fitted air-conditioning valve. Chewie gave his ruined handiwork a mournful look, then decided to leave his partner to it. Work was therapeutic, after all, and by the time Han had refitted the dead valve, realized, removed it and replaced the new one, he was sure to be feeling better.

Leia, meanwhile, fell asleep almost immediately, so missed the colourful selection of curses with which Han regaled the ship an hour later. She ended up sleeping a lot later than she'd intended, and so, of course, found herself unable to sleep that night. She lay in her bunk, unable to clear her head, thoughts chasing themselves at lightspeed around her mind - the Alliance, the rendezvous, the Empire, Darth Vader, Luke, Han ... and more Han. Eventually, she sighed, got up, and dressed again. Pointless lying there, getting more and more awake. She got a mug of tea from the galley and headed for the cockpit. Perhaps seeing that there was still a universe outside this ship would help.

Han woke with a start, his senses immediately alert, and reached under his pillow for his holdout blaster before realizing there could be no threat, he'd just been dreaming. Still, no harm in checking things over, just to make sure. He pulled on his pants and shirt, and drew back his curtain. Everything was quiet ... except Leia's bunk was empty.

He was halfway out of the sleeping quarters before he hesitated. Obviously she couldn't sleep, and had gotten up. But would she thank him for coming looking for her? He'd kept out of her way all day, feeling guilty, not wanting to upset her any more. But he couldn't bear to think of her being somewhere on the ship, feeling upset, maybe needing comfort, and that he wasn't there to help her. Whether he actually could help was a question he sidestepped for the moment. He would find her first.

And he did. In the cockpit.

He hesitated again in the doorway.

"Leia?"

She turned slightly, looked up at him, gave him a small, but gentle, smile. Han stopped mid-breath. Sitting there, sprawled in his chair, her hair simply tied at her neck and hanging loose down her back, her face lit only by the console lights and the stars, she was incredibly beautiful. "You okay?" he asked, almost in a whisper.

"I'm fine," she said softly. "Just watching the stars. It helps me think sometimes."

Han sat in the copilot's chair. "What were you thinking about?"

Leia's gaze returned to the main viewport. "The rendezvous, mainly," she told him. "How late we're going to be.... They'll all think we were caught ... probably killed."

It's not my fault, Han thought instinctively, but held back from saying it. "Just think of the surprise they'll get, when we turn up," he offered instead.

"Like when we arrived on Yavin IV," Leia said pensively. "We seem to be making a habit of surprising people, don't we?"

"Yeah," he agreed. "They all thought you - " He stopped himself.

Leia met his eyes. "Went up with Alderaan?" she finished for him. "It's okay, you know. You can talk about it. People seem to think I'll break down if they even mention the place. But it's not like I could ever forget it. Sometimes it's worse hearing people trying to avoid the subject."

"I'm sorry," Han murmured, avoiding her eyes, wishing he was more eloquent, that he could find something to say that could help her. "Can I ... do you want to talk about it?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I don't know if I even can talk about it ... even describe how it happened ... though I saw the whole thing."

Han stared at her. "You saw it?"

"Oh, yes," she said bitterly. "They made me watch... Vader and Tarkin. They took the Death Star to Alderaan, brought me up on the observation deck to see it, and told me that if I didn't provide them with the location of a Rebel base to destroy, they'd destroy Alderaan instead."

Han gasped, amazed at the callousness of such an action, but Leia didn't seem to hear him. She continued in a voice that was tense, desperately restrained. "Of course, it didn't matter. The Emperor had wanted Alderaan out of the way for a long time. They knew how important Alderaan was to the Alliance, and they knew where Alderaan led other planets and systems would follow. And I actually believed that if I gave them a name, even a false name, I could stop them. How stupid could I be?" She looked at him, and her eyes were full of agony, pain that, even three years later, was still fresh. Han reached for her hand, and she held onto him tightly as she spoke, her eyes never wavering, never moving from his.

"I saw the whole thing," she said, in a soft monotone that chilled him. "I saw Alderaan floating there, looking completely peaceful. I saw the laser fire, the explosion, and ... then just a lot of dust, and bits of rock ... and that was it." Her eyes closed, as if she was seeing the whole thing again behind her eyelids. When she opened them again, they shone with tears.

There was nothing Han could say, nothing that could express his horror, his sadness for her. "I'm sorry," he whispered, knowing it was completely inadequate. "I'm sorry."

Leia pulled him into her arms, clung to him like a last hope. She was suddenly shaking uncontrollably, tears she couldn't stop pouring down her cheeks. Han didn't speak, just held her close, stroked her shoulders gently. How could he leave the Alliance now? How could he leave _her_ now?

Eventually, her sobs abated, and he felt her wipe her face roughly with her hand, heard her sigh raggedly. She rested her head in his shoulder. "You're ... the first person I've really talked to about it," she murmured. "I ... I didn't know I'd react so badly to telling it. I'm sorry."

"Don't," he whispered. "Don't be sorry." He held her tighter. There was much more he wanted to say, that he wished he could say, but he couldn't form the words. All he really wanted to tell her was that he would never leave her, but it was the one promise he was unable to make.

"It won't happen again," he told her, hoping to offer at least some comfort. "The Death Star is gone."

"Yes," she agreed, her voice scarcely more than a breath. "But the Empire is as strong as ever." She looked up at him, her cheeks still flushed, her lashes still damp, but her eyes clear and determined. "We'll never give up," she told him. "Not till they're finished, for good."

He touched her face gently. "I know."

* * *

Several days later, Han found himself reflecting on the change that had taken place in Leia during the long trip to Bespin. They were sitting, or more accurately, reclining, on the couch in the cabin. Chewbacca, seeing them the morning after they'd talked in the cockpit, had quickly gotten the message that they'd like to be alone as much as possible, and had managed to keep Threepio out of their way too, an achievement Han had to admire. It was late afternoon now by standard time, and Han had attempted to get Leia interested in one of the holovid smashball games, an attempt she'd appreciated by making herself comfortable, pillowing her head on his chest, and falling asleep. Han found his attention more and more frequently wandering from the game to her.

She'd begun this trip the same buttoned-up Princess/Senator/Alliance leader she'd been ever since he'd first met her. Yet he'd always known there was another Leia Organa from the one she allowed most people to see. He'd seen flashes of that from the beginning: the Leia Organa who'd had the presence of mind to grab Luke's rifle and shoot them a way out of the Death Star cell block. And the Leia Organa who'd hugged him with relief in the garbage masher. The Leia Organa who'd come running to him and Luke when they returned from destroying the Death Star, while the other Alliance leaders followed at a more formal pace. The Leia Organa who'd been more concerned than anyone for him on Ord Mantell... and the Leia Organa who'd had tears in her sleepless eyes when he and Luke returned from their night on the ice fields of Hoth.

But now he was seeing her without any facade. Lying against him, that incredible hair left loose for once, her clothes dishevelled from constant washing and wearing, he'd never seen her looking so relaxed. Or so beautiful.

He brushed her hair gently away from her face, kissed the top of her head. She stirred slightly, snuggled closer to him and sighed contentedly. Han smiled to himself. If the Alliance leaders could see her now!

Breaking into his reverie, at exactly the most unwelcome moment it could choose, came the arrival alarm. It woke Leia, and as she began to sit up, he crossed to the console, hit the reset, and made a quick calculation. He turned to Leia, to find she'd followed him, and knew what the alarm was, too.

"How long?" she asked quietly.

"About an hour until we hit atmosphere," he told her, taking her in his arms. "I'd better get up to the cockpit, help Chewie with the final manoeuvres."

Leia shook her hair back from her face. "I'd better make myself look presentable."

But neither of them moved yet. Han smoothed Leia's hair, enjoying its softness, possibly for the last time for a long time. They both knew they had time yet, several days at least. But for both of them arrival at Bespin marked the beginning of the end.

"Three and a half weeks sounded like such a long time at the beginning," Leia said quietly, and Han hugged her closer. She looked up at him, and they kissed, all their longings for each other plain in the embrace.

When they parted, they gazed into each other's eyes for a long moment, their thoughts unspoken, yet shared. Leia pulled him closer again, held him tight, then finally stepped back.

"Time to go," she whispered, and he nodded.

* * *

When Leia entered the cockpit, the orangey glow of Bespin's cloud cover filled almost the whole viewport. She touched Han's arm as she slid into the seat behind Chewie, and he smiled at her over his shoulder.

"Okay, Chewie," he said. "Ready for atmosphere?"

"Oh, dear," Threepio murmured from the seat beside Leia. "I don't know if I am."

The descent through the gas giant's clouds was smooth, but none the less spectacular, a riot of colour in pinks, oranges, mauves. Cloud City appeared on the horizon ahead, at first nothing more than a speck, then as they drew closer, the sheer size of the installation became clear. Despite herself, Leia was impressed.

Something pinged on the console, and Han sighed as he toggled a switch. "In comm range," he commented. "Here goes nothing." He glanced at Leia, and she nodded.

"Cloud City Traffic Control," he began. "This is the _Millennium Falcon_. I'm trying to reach Lando Calrissian ..."

* * *


End file.
